


Dragged away

by TetrodotoxinB



Series: Whumptober 2019 [6]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Bleeding, Bomb, Day 6, Death of unnamed characters, Prompt: Dragged Away, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-25 22:40:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20919791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TetrodotoxinB/pseuds/TetrodotoxinB
Summary: Mac can't win them all, but giving up isn't something he knows how to do.Whumptober prompt: Dragged away





	Dragged away

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by [Secret_Library98](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Secret_Library98/pseuds/Secret_Library98).

Mac looks at the slight woman next to him on the floor. Her bleeding has slowed to a mere trickle but the fact that she’s still bleeding means she’s still alive, even if it won’t be for long. He doesn’t bother looking at the pair of lab assistants across the room. Either he’ll stop the bomb or he won’t; staring at them won’t do anything.

Using the back of his hand, Mac wipes the sweat from his brow that threatens to run into his eyes. They’re running out of time. They’ve been running out of time ever since they set foot in the facility; they just hadn’t known it at the time.

“Mac, we’re running out of time,” Jack says softly.

“I know that, Jack!” Mac snaps as he turns the triggering device over yet again.

“I know you know. I’m not saying that to tell you something you don’t already know.”

Mac grits his teeth in frustration because where are the damn wires for the receiver? He really doesn’t need Jack to be trying to impart whatever it is he wants to say to Mac through telepathy.

“Say it, Jack.”

“I’m saying it’s time to consider Plan B.”

“We have a Plan B?” Mac asks impatiently.

Jack kneels beside Mac, wiping his bloody hands on a wad of paper towels. Apparently, time ran out sooner, rather than later, for one of the lab techs. “Plan B is get the hell out of here.”

Mac shakes his head and pries at the plastic casing on the detonator. “We don’t have time to save them and ourselves. We either stop it or they die. There’s only two minutes.”

Jack’s hand settles heavy on Mac’s shoulder. “I know, hoss. I also know that if we leave now, we’ll be lucky to clear the area by the time this goes off, and that’s without trying to carry anyone.”

“No, Jack. I’m not going to let them die,” Mac argues. He flips the plastic cover off and it clatters against the concrete floor.

“Mac, I don’t think you have a say in that. The two that are left, they’re minutes from death. Even if we stop the bomb, I don’t think help can get here in time. You’re not giving up. You’re reading the situation for what it is. Don’t sacrifice yourself when there’s no good reason, Mac,” Jack says.

Mac hates this. Hates feeling powerless. Hates failure. Hates being the reason someone dies just because he’s not good enough. “I can do this!” Mac shouts.

“Nah, hoss. Not this time,” Jack says and he clamps his hands onto Mac’s biceps, hauling him up off the floor and away from the bomb.

“Jack, stop! No! I can do this!”

But Jack doesn’t listen. He twists Mac’s arms until he can’t help but walk in the direction that Jack’s pushing him in. For the first few yards Mac struggles, shouting about how they’re wasting time, but the farther from the room they get, the more it sinks in that there’s no going back. 

“I’ll move faster if you let go of me,” Mac finally says.

Jack doesn’t say anything, doesn’t rub it in how he was right all along even though Mac didn’t want to admit it. He just lets go and runs with Mac as fast as they can go. 

Somehow they make it out of the building before the explosion. Every second more that they have feels like borrowed time, and Mac makes the best of it, dragging the both of them over a retaining wall. It’s not perfect, but it's all there is, and it saves them from the blast wave and most of the debris in the blast wind.

After the smaller, secondary explosions from the compressed gas tanks stop, Mac sits up. His ears are ringing and his head is pounding, but neither of those things matters next to the way his chest clenches. 

He failed. He was too slow and people died. It doesn’t matter that he didn’t build the bomb or shoot them. He left them behind to die. Helplessness and frustration roll over him, just as strong as the blast front, and he feels unwelcome tears roll down his face. He’s already fucked this up; being a child about it isn’t going to fix anything.

Mac hears something and swipes at his cheeks, looking around to identify the sound over the deafening ringing in his ears. It’s Jack. He’s clearly shouting at the top of his lungs but Mac can’t make any of it out except through his questionable lip-reading.

Mac shakes his head and taps out _what_ on Jack’s knee with Morse code.

_Not your fault,_ Jack taps back.

Mac isn’t arguing that it is, but he’s not yet ready to hear that it isn’t his fault either, and he definitely can’t bear the pitying look on Jack’s face. He turns away, trying to survey their surroundings, but Jack just scoots closer and pulls Mac into his arms.

Mac can’t quite bring himself to pull away and after a few seconds he leans into it, wrapping his arms around Jack in return.

_I know, Mac. I know._

Mac nods against Jack’s shoulder, his tears already dampening the fabric of Jack’s shirt. Like getting shot, this is just one of those things that’s going to hurt for a long time.


End file.
